


Happy Monday

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Rewrite of Monday in which Mulder wakes up next to Scully, them being the reason why the waterbed is leaking ;)





	Happy Monday

First  
He was warm and wet from the waist down. For a microsecond he let it soak in to his consciousness like the unfurling and delicious memory of a sex dream. Then he realised his top half was just as wet, and that the warmth was rapidly cooling. He flung out an arm and a splatter of droplets flew up, followed by a yelp. His eyes popped open. Scully’s hair was fanned out over the pillow but her face was turned towards him, eyes wide.  
“What the…”  
He lifted himself up on his elbows and turned to look down the bed. A steady spout of water curved up and over from the end, spilling the contents of the waterbed onto the duvet cover. He pushed himself down to cover it with his finger. He exhaled but no sooner had the air whistled out of his mouth than a spout appeared on the opposite end and the water splayed directly onto Scully’s head.  
“…fuck, Mulder?”  
As he lay across the bed, stopping water with fingers, toes, shirts and boxers, he spied the cause.  
The bed rippled beneath them and she was all moans and sighs on the water. Mulder imagined her swimming naked through the breakers, supple and fluid, roiling with the waves. As he opened his eyes to tell her she shifted from under him and pushed him over on to his back. She sat astride him, her skirt bunched at her waist, as she unbuttoned her blouse and shucked it off. He reached up to her breasts, cupping them through her bra and she shook her head back revealing the curve of her neck and the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her collar bones shadowed dark and light on the gentle motion of the bed. He caressed her as she lifted herself up to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers. He shuffled down his hips and the bed wobbled.  
“This is so unbelievably sexy, Mulder. Fucking hot,” she said. “This is a fantasy of mine – what about you? What do you dream about?”  
His brain shifted up a gear as he picked through the more appropriate images he’d stored away over the years.  
“Scully, can you keep your skirt and stockings on?”  
She giggled into his mouth. “That’s pretty tame, Mulder.”  
“And your shoes?”  
“Now you’re talking,” she said, pushing herself onto him in agonising bursts of ecstasy. They both let out a slow-release, pressure-cooker sigh.  
He sat back on the bed as the downstairs neighbour yelled in his ear, his feet sunk in to the ruined carpet, the screen of his watch, his Omega Dynamic, was clouded over and when he tipped his cellphone upside down, water poured out.  
Scully had showered, dressed, made coffee and was sinking into one of his dining chairs, wet hair falling over her face. She pushed a mug towards him and he finally saw her, really saw her. The Scully who had loved him last night was sitting in his dining room this morning. The Scully who had burst his waterbed with her spike heels and enthusiasm was sipping on black coffee opposite him. She smiled.  
“Happy Monday, Mulder.”  
“I could make some wisecrack about wet patches and wet dreams, but I’m guessing that a morning after has never been quite such a damp squib for you, Scully. I’m sorry.”  
She blew the steam off her coffee. “I’m not, Mulder.” She slid a hand across the table to touch his. “Last night was special. Thank you.”  
Her honesty silenced him. He wasn’t expecting it. Despite all they’d been through, abductions, cancer, Emily, losing the X Files, talking about feelings was still so hard. He looked at the knots in the wood of the table. “I wasn’t expecting it.”  
“I wasn’t expecting a waterbed. That was quite the surprise, Mulder.”  
He chuckled. “That bed has been nothing but a surprise, Scully. But I think it might be time to buy a new one.”  
“I’ll come with you,” she said, her voice low. “If you want some help to choose.”  
Blushing Scully used to be his favourite, but orgasm Scully had recently been promoted. “It has to be comfortable,” he said, adding hopefully, “for you too, Scully.”  
The squeeze of her hand on his was all he needed. “We can go after work.”  
He let his head fall into his hands. “Forecasting meeting from hell.”  
She ruffled his hair. “Then bed shopping heaven, Mulder.”  
This can’t be real, he thought. This has got to be some kind of dream. This cannot last. He’ll fuck it up, he’ll make her hate him, he’ll ruin her, she’ll regret this over and over. He sighed as she closed the door behind her. His muscles ached as he stood up, a good ache, for a good reason. He watched at the window enjoying the pain, enjoying watching her as she disappeared in a wavy, hazy pool of yellow goop. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his cheeks, feeling them disintegrate beneath his fingers. He opened his eyes and watched his feet waver and fade.  
“We’re still in the cave.” His voice rippled away.  
Second  
He was warm and wet from the waist down. For a microsecond he let it soak in to his consciousness like the unfurling and delicious memory of a sex dream. Then he realised his top half was just as wet, and that the warmth was rapidly cooling. He flung out an arm and a splatter of droplets flew up. His eyes popped open. And for some reason he expected to see Scully’s hair fanned out over the pillow but, of course, she wasn’t there. Why would she be? That was just a fantasy.  
“What the…”  
He lifted himself up on his elbows and turned to look down the bed. A steady spout of water curved up and over from the end, spilling the contents of the waterbed onto the duvet cover. He pushed himself down to cover it with his finger. He exhaled but no sooner had the air whistled out of his mouth than a spout appeared on the opposite end and the water splayed directly onto his feet. He heard a voice. Was she here?  
“…fuck. Scully? Are you here?” His memory was filtering through.  
As he lay across the bed, stopping water with fingers, toes, shirts and boxers, he spied the cause.  
The bed rippled beneath them and she was all tuts and groans as she manoeuvred him under the covers. She ran a hand over his forehead and sighed. There was some kind of vice pressing against his temples and when she came back into the room, she put a long glass of water on the bedside table.  
She sat on the bed next to him, brushing her lap. He reached up for the water and swallowed the pills she gave him.  
“This is unbelievable, Mulder,” she said. “The next time we go to Florida in hurricane season…no, scrap that. There will be no next time. Understand me?”  
Mulder closed his eyes and tried to imagine her swimming naked through the breakers, supple and fluid, but all he saw was the nightmarish sight of swathes of rain and that…that…thing in the water. He sat up, struggling to breathe. The bed wobbled and his stomach lurched.  
“Scully, can you pass me the…”  
She yelped as he vomited over her blouse. He groaned and heaved again. All down the rest of her.  
“That’s probably a good thing, Mulder.” She sighed and trod to the bathroom. “I’ll just get cleaned up.”  
He drank more water and hung himself over the side of the bed. He spied her shoes on the floor, so tiny but so deadly, those spike heels. He picked them up to marvel at how Scully’s delicate feet slip in and rolled back under the covers, clutching them to his chest as he listened to the sounds of Scully washing herself. He smiled.  
He sat back on the bed as the downstairs neighbour yelled in his ear, his feet sunk in to the ruined carpet, the screen of his watch, his Omega Dynamic, was clouded over and when he tipped his cellphone upside down, water poured out.  
Scully was in the kitchen. Wearing fresh clothes from her overnight bag. She pushed a mug towards him. She smiled.  
“Happy Monday, Mulder.”  
He couldn’t shake the feeling of deja-vu. Only there was something was different this time. “Scully. I’m sorry.”  
She blew the steam off her coffee. “Don’t worry about it, Mulder.” She slid a hand across the table to touch his. “Sharing bodily fluids with you. What a lovely surprise.”  
Her tone silenced him. It sounded almost…flirty. Didn’t it? But it seemed so inappropriate. He looked at the knots in the wood of the table. “I wasn’t expecting to do that.”  
“I wasn’t expecting a waterbed. That was quite the surprise, Mulder.”  
He chuckled. “That bed has been nothing but a surprise, Scully. But I think it might be time to buy a new one.”  
“I’ll come with you,” she said, her voice low. “If you want some help to choose.” She squeezed his hand. “We can go after work.”  
He let his head fall into his hands. “Forecasting meeting from hell.”  
She ruffled his hair. “Then bed shopping, Mulder.”  
He watched at the window as she disappeared in a wavy, hazy pool of yellow goop. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his cheeks, feeling them disintegrate beneath his fingers. He opened his eyes and watched his feet waver and fade.  
“We’re still in the cave.” His voice rippled away.  
Three  
He was warm and wet from the waist down. For a microsecond he let it soak in to his consciousness like the unfurling and delicious memory of a sex dream. Then he realised his top half was just as wet, and that the warmth was rapidly cooling. He flung out an arm and a splatter of droplets flew up, followed by a yelp. His eyes popped open. Scully’s hair was fanned out over the pillow but her face was turned towards him, eyes wide. And her face was green.  
“What the…”  
He lifted himself up on his elbows and turned to look down the bed. A steady spout of water curved up and over from the end, spilling the contents of the waterbed onto the duvet cover. He pushed himself down to cover it with his finger. He exhaled but no sooner had the air whistled out of his mouth than a spout appeared on the opposite end and the water splayed directly onto Scully’s head.  
“…fuck, Mulder?”  
As he lay across the bed, stopping water with fingers, toes, shirts and boxers, he spied the cause.  
The bed rippled beneath them as she slipped in beside him. She sat, knees tucked in front of her, swathed in an oversized robe he’d found at the back of his closet, some kind of facial serum covering her face.  
“Are you going to sleep in that?” he asked.  
She gave him the glare. “If you hadn’t managed to leave my suitcase at the Falls, and if my apartment manager had managed to let me know that my building was being fumigated, and if my mother hadn’t been out of town, and if I had any money for a hotel room…”  
“I meant that…green stuff…” This was not how he imagined sleeping with Scully would go. He was sure that a first night together in a waterbed should have been something more…fulfilling? “I’m sorry, Scully. About the bag and everything. I’ll just take the couch. I’m used to it.”  
Her lips pushed out of the green and she sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just…I’m tired, Mulder. And it was kind of you to offer to let me stay. And besides, we’ve just played house, so it’s not like I haven’t seen you domesticated before. And I’ve always wanted to sleep in a waterbed. It’s quite comfortable, isn’t it?” She settled down and adjusted the pillow.  
He nodded, imagining her swimming naked through the breakers, supple and fluid, roiling with the waves. Stop it, Mulder. That was just a fantasy. A really good one, but… “Goodnight, Scully.  
“Scully, you can take that robe off. I won’t look.”  
She giggled. “That’s a pretty lame line, Mulder.”  
“I didn’t mean…”  
“I’m teasing. If you want me to undress in front of you, all you have to do is ask.”  
He sat up. She rolled onto her side facing him. “Did you have some kind of fantasy about fucking me in a waterbed wearing high heels, Mulder?”  
Did he? It seemed…familiar. “Maybe.”  
She leant over the side of the bed and held up a pair of black stilettoes. “Because I still have my shoes…,” she said, pushing herself onto him in agonising bursts of ecstasy. They both let out a slow-release, pressure-cooker sigh.  
He sat back on the bed as the downstairs neighbour yelled in his ear, his feet sunk in to the ruined carpet, the screen of his watch, his Omega Dynamic, was clouded over and when he tipped his cellphone upside down, water poured out.  
Scully had showered, dressed, made coffee and was sinking into one of his dining chairs, wet hair falling over her face. She pushed a mug towards him and he finally saw her, really saw her. Was this the Scully who had loved him last night? Was she really sitting in his dining room this morning? The very same Scully who had burst his waterbed with her spike heels and enthusiasm was sipping on black coffee opposite him. Surely, this wasn’t happening.  
She smiled. “Happy Monday, Mulder.”  
This can’t be real, he thought. This has got to be some kind of dream. This cannot last. He’ll fuck it up, he’ll make her hate him, he’ll ruin her, she’ll regret this over and over. He sighed as she disappeared in a wavy, hazy pool of yellow goop. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his cheeks, feeling them disintegrate beneath his fingers. He opened his eyes and watched his feet waver and fade. But not before he thought about shoes.  
“We’re still in the cave.” His voice rippled away.  
Four  
He was warm and wet from the waist down. For a microsecond he let it soak in to his consciousness like the unfurling and delicious memory of a sex dream. Then he realised that it wasn’t a dream. He really was warm and wet from the waist down. His eyes popped open. Scully’s hair was fanned out over the pillow, eyes closed, face flush with passion.  
“What the…”  
He lifted himself up on his elbows and turned to look down the bed. Her legs were entwined around his, perfect tiny feet resting on his ass.  
“…fuck, Mulder?”  
“Sorry, I got distracted.” He turned back to her face and wondered how he’d gotten into this position.   
The bed rippled beneath them and she was all moans and sighs on the water. Mulder imagined her swimming naked through the breakers, supple and fluid, roiling with the waves. As he opened his eyes she shifted from under him and pushed him over on to his back. She sat astride him, gloriously and completely naked. He reached up to her breasts, cupping them and grazing his thumbs over her nipples. She shook her head back revealing the curve of her neck and the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her collar bones shadowed dark and light on the gentle motion of the bed.  
“This is so unbelievably sexy, Mulder. Fucking hot,” she said. “This is a fantasy of mine – what about you? What do you dream about?”  
His brain shifted up a gear as he picked through the more appropriate images he’d stored away over the years.  
“I used to have a thing about spike heels, but…”  
She giggled into his mouth. “That’s pretty tame, Mulder.”  
“Bare feet is so much better.”  
“Agreed,” she said, pushing herself onto him in agonising bursts of ecstasy. They both let out a slow-release, pressure-cooker sigh.  
Scully had showered, dressed, made coffee and was sinking into one of his dining chairs, wet hair falling over her face. She pushed a mug towards him and he finally saw her, really saw her. The Scully who had loved him last night was sitting in his dining room this morning. She smiled.  
“Happy Monday, Mulder.”  
He took the coffee. “Is this real?”  
Blushing, she nodded. ““I wasn’t expecting a waterbed. That was quite the surprise, Mulder.”  
He chuckled. “That bed has been nothing but a surprise, Scully. But, this, us, are you sure?”  
“Mulder, are you all right?”  
“I’m not sure, Scully. Are we here? Did we just make love in my waterbed? As much as I want it to be true, I can’t help but think this isn’t meant to be.”  
“What are you saying? That this is a dream? A fantasy?”  
“An illusion, Scully. I think…I think we’re still underground.”  
Touching her face, she frowned. “Being ingested?”  
“We’re just platonic work partners, Scully. This…what we just did, isn’t supposed to happen.”  
She let out a light laugh. “Now I know this isn’t real, Mulder. Since when have we ever been just platonic work partners? Who do you think actually believes we aren’t fucking? There’s a pool in Accounts, Skinner thinks we are, Kersh was convinced we were, Spender, Fowley, Pendrell. Everyone we meet thinks we’re lovers. You and I seem to be the only ones who aren’t convinced and we’re the only ones who really know how we feel. And now we’ve fucked for the first time and you’re telling me it wasn’t even real.” She stood up and banged her fists on the table. “Why do things like this always happen to us, Mulder?”  
Her face wavered and hazed yellow. He desperately wanted to tell her that he would gladly fuck her when they got out but all he could do was watch her disappear until his own hands started to fade away too.  
“Fucking cave.”  
Five  
He was warm and wet from the waist down. For a microsecond he let it soak in to his consciousness like the unfurling and delicious memory of a sex dream. Then he realised that it wasn’t a dream. He really was warm and wet from the waist down. His eyes popped open.  
The smell of fresh earth assaulted his senses and the sudden brightness jolted through him. He felt lighter, cooler, free. Hands grappled with his, someone grabbed his elbow, he scrambled his feet trying to get a purchase but he was too weak. His body slipped through the earth and he felt himself being laid down.  
“Scully?”  
“She’s right behind you, Mulder.” It was Skinner’s voice.  
Scully’s hair was fanned out over the ground but her face was turned towards him, eyes flickering open.  
“Happy Monday, Mulder,” she croaked.  
“Happy Monday, Scully.”


End file.
